The Green Crucible
by NoviceWordsmith
Summary: One way to introduce kindness. This story happens after Chapter 6 of "At Hogwarts Under Compulsion."
1. Assignment

This story started out as part of "At Hogwarts Under Compulsion" and was going to come after Chapter 6, but it became too much of a rabbit-trail, so I cut it. However, the concept intrigued me, so I've made a separate story of it. The previous situation and cause for Brian's distress as discussed in the first several paragraphs occurs in the other story, so "The Green Crucible" will make more sense if you read at least chapters 5 and 6 of "At Hogwarts Under Compulsion."

Standard Disclaimer: Everything and every Character that you recognize from the Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling. Unfamiliar characters and this particular situation belong to me. I get no remuneration of any kind for this story except the compliments, if any, from the readers.

As always, comments and criticisms are greatly appreciated.

* * *

**ASSIGNMENT**

"Come in, Mr. MacDougal," said Professor Dumbledore. Even when he spoke quietly his deep voice seemed to fill any space he occupied.

Not many students were invited to the Headmaster's office; fewer still enjoyed the visit. However kindly he might look, Dumbledore was still the Headmaster and that position alone made a visit to his office a weighty matter. MacDougal quickly reviewed events of the past few weeks to try to find out why he'd been summoned. It had to be on account of that smart-ass little first year. Doesn't anybody around here have a sense of humor? The elephant trunk hex was just a joke: things like that happened all the time. When the whole religion thing ran through the school, he had only done what everybody else at Hogwarts was doing. Even some of the professors had participated. Well, perhaps he went a bit overboard telling the kid how his parents had died... but it was true. How was he to know the kid would go mental over it? Anyway, after two days it seemed the whole thing had blown over.

Then he got called to the Headmaster's office. It didn't help Brian's nervousness that around the cornice of the room were displayed portraits of previous Headmasters of Hogwarts, all looking down on him rather like a jury. Explanations and excuses started rushing through his brain.

"Please sit down," said Dumbledore, indicating a comfortable leather chair across from his desk. Then he opened a folder of papers and started perusing them.

MacDougal sat down stiffly on the edge of the chair. After a moment, he began, "Please, sir, I can explain…"

"Explain?" Dumbledore interrupted, looking up. "I don't see how you can explain something I've told you nothing about as yet." He turned his attention back to the papers. " 'Brian Alistair MacDougal, Slytherin House, fourth year, shows aptitude for Potions and Charms, good marks in classes…' hmmm, they dipped a bit last term, eh?"

MacDougal nodded, completely at sea as to where this interview was going. Clocks, or other instruments in the office, ticked a quiet, albeit complicated, background. Dull sunshine came in the windows but didn't brighten the atmosphere of the office. In fact, Dumbledore seemed to be the only thing in the office that was relaxed.

" '…also good at research and figuring out problems. Social skills…' " (at this, Brian's stomach tightened noticeably) " 'typical for a young man his age' " Dumbledore closed the folder and looked at MacDougal.

Ever alert for clues, Brian studied the Headmaster's expression. It was calm, even slightly inclined toward the positive. He could see no signs of annoyance or anger or disapproval, and the knot in his stomach relaxed a tiny bit.

"Mr. MacDougal, there are many things which need to be learned that do not fit easily into Hogwarts' curriculum. Therefore, I occasionally step in and, with the teachers' approval, give extra work to some students. I'm giving you an assignment that I expect will last the rest of this term and possibly go into the spring term." Dumbledore got up from his desk, walked over to a bookshelf and got a small box which he brought back to his desk. Sitting down, he again addressed the student.

"These are seeds of the Hesseth plant. I want you to cultivate them, discover what makes them grow better and stronger, and discover some uses for them. Now before you are properly annoyed at such a simple project I will point out that I respect your intelligence very much. The Hesseth is not well known, but there are references to it in some very ancient manuscripts. These references suggest that it has significant magic or can be used significantly in magic, therefore it is worth your time to investigate. Also, although it appears to be a simple plant, it is very difficult to grow, therefore it will require all of your Slytherin cleverness to figure out how to cultivate it. Finally, I will tell you that the few times it has been grown well have been under unusual, even surprising, conditions. I regret to point out that I've removed all references to these successful growing techniques from our library, but there is still enough information for you to work with. Do you have any questions so far?"

Startled, Brian tried frantically to grasp at any association that he could turn into an intelligent question. "May I ask Professor Sprout for help?"

"All of the resources of Hogwarts are available to you, just as they are for all students. Of course, you will document your research. I shall expect a twelve-inch roll of parchment from you every two weeks documenting your investigations and conclusions. This assignment is in addition to your regular schoolwork. Good work here will add value to your marks, but will not compensate for slacking off your regular studies."

MacDougal was finally beginning to get a grip on what was happening. He instinctively sought a direct path toward his goal. "May I ask you something, sir?"

"Certainly."

"You said you've removed references to this plant from our library, so you must have seen them. Will you tell me in what general direction to approach this?"

Dumbledore smiled warmly. "It's good to see that not all students have forgotten the value of a direct question to an admitted source of information. Let me see, how shall I word this? It seems that the most successful growths of Hesseth had very little to do with herbology as we recognize it. You asked if you were allowed to inquire of Professor Sprout. Again, I say that all of Hogwarts is available to you, but don't limit yourself. Be prepared to find information in places you don't expect, even in places you don't particularly want to find it."

Brian's expression melted from business-like inquiry to thorough confusion. He hadn't really expected to trip up Professor Dumbledore, but he had hoped to get a bit more concrete information from him. Whatever could he mean, "in places you don't particularly want to find it"?

"Good, good," rumbled Dumbledore good-naturedly. "I've startled you. A teacher's fondest hope is to startle his students into actually thinking. Well, here are the seeds. I shall expect your first report in two weeks. Off you go, now."

MacDougal stood up and accepted the box from Dumbledore. Tick, click, t-click-ickity, click-tick, cl-ti-ick-ck, tickity, clickity, tick, tick… The wheels of the instruments in the office were nothing compared with the wheels spinning in MacDougal's brain. He walked slowly toward the door, curiosity (_Why me?_) wrestling with self-preservation (_Don't stir anything up, you fool!_) in his mind. As he got to the door, he turned back to the Headmaster. "Sir, is there… any particular reason you chose me for this project?"

_Well_, thought Dumbledore, _that shows some courage and perhaps a bit of conscience._ "This is something of an experiment. As I mentioned before, there are many things which need to be learned that don't fit into our present curriculum. Your teachers and I agreed that you could handle the work, and your history here at Hogwarts made you one of the logical choices." Dumbledore smiled and nodded, indicating that the interview was over. He turned his attention to another folder on his desk.

"Thank you, sir," said Brian, and he left closing the door behind him. He suspected that Dumbledore's answer had been evasive but he didn't have the nerve to pursue the matter any more.

When the door to his office closed, Dumbledore looked up from the blank pages in the folder and smiled pensively after MacDougal. "He didn't completely accept that last answer you gave him," said one of the portraits, a Headmaster who had been in Slytherin House himself. "Do you really think he won't figure it out?"

"Of course he'll figure it out, Phineas," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "I'd be disappointed in him if he didn't. The real question, however, is whether or not he'll learn from this project. As we all know, recognition of facts is sometimes unavoidable, but learning is always optional."

* * *

The Hesseth Plant – Initial Findings

Hesseth has been found in almost every part of the world, but is most common (if I may use the term for a decidedly hard-to-find plant) in areas with a moderate concentration of people. It is somewhat less common in areas of high concentration (e.g., large, dense cities) and is almost never encountered in uninhabited areas.

Structurally it is a viney plant with heart-shaped leaves occurring in opposing pairs along the vine. At a glance, it is very similar to several common vines used for decoration around buildings and walls. I have not yet grasped the differences well enough that I could be certain of identifying this plant without some assistance. There are few reports as to how large the plant will grow. Some indicate it remains a single vine, climbing a wall or snaking through a field. Others report it branching out to the point of covering the side of a building.

Upon recommendation from Professor Sprout I have planted five of the seeds in ceramic containers in soil characterized by 1) sand, 2) clay, 3) loam, 4) slight saltiness (as if near the sea), and 5) slightly acid loam (as if in a forest). When the seeds sprout, the containers will be moved to locations with differing amounts of sun, wind, and water.

References to the use of Hesseth in magic, so far, are very infrequent and very inconsistent. In 1832 a witch seems to have used …


	2. Research

Standard Disclaimer: Everything and all Characters recognizable from the Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling. Unfamiliar characters and this series of events are my own. I receive no remuneration whatever for this story except the compliments, if any, from the readers.

* * *

**Research**

MacDougal frowned at the open book before him, then glanced around the Library. Another dead-end. Dumbledore certainly knew how to structure an assignment to require the most work from a student. It had sounded so easy, especially when Dumbledore gave him access "to all the resources of Hogwarts."

Of course Brian had gone directly to Professor Sprout. After culling her memory – during which he, having taken the hint, swept the greenhouse twice... _Twice!_ – she had recalled the following items: Hesseth seems to have originated somewhere in the Middle East; it seems to prefer a "gentle" climate (whatever that might be); and the occasional mentions of the plant through the centuries indicate both that it's easy to grow and that it's very difficult to grow. One reference, by a Muggle playwright and therefore probably unreliable, seemed to indicate the plant produces a thick, white or milky substance.

In the midst of his reverie, he became aware of whispering from behind a nearby bookshelf. One didn't get to the top of anything by passing up an opportunity to eavesdrop so he automatically moved his wand hand casually toward his head and scratched his head with his wand. But as the point of the wand drifted past his ear, he murmured, _"augēre audiendo."_ As his hand relaxed back to the table in a perfectly normal manner, he listened to the now-distinct conversation.

"...don't exactly remember, you know? I mean, who listens to the serm... the talk anyway? Except grown ups, of course."

"Well do you remember anything?"

The second voice was The Girl, the Muggle who annoyed everyone, even other Muggles. The first voice was that wimpy little kid in the hallway. Almost snorting with disgust, MacDougal's wand was nearly at his head to reverse the spell when his hand froze in place, and he listened very intently.

"I think he called it 'chessed' or 'hesseth' or something like that. The... the guy up front, y'know?... was saying that it's stronger than anything. Of course, he didn't mention it specifically, but it might be stronger than magic."

"Well of course, with... Dad... behind it, it would be stronger than magic, hands down."

Footsteps approached the voices and Brian hastily reversed his charm to protect his ears. Many experiences (and frequently painful ones) had taught him to reverse that particular charm in an instant.

After the other students left the Library, MacDougal frowned even more intensely. Would he have to talk with that wimp, that spineless Muggle to find out more about his seeds? Was that what Dumbledore was after all along? Finding information "in places where you don't particularly want to find it" indeed! Well, Dumbledore could jolly well forget it: that would be the absolute last resort. There were a dozen other paths of research to try first.

* * *

Report on the Hesseth Plant.

The seedlings are just beginning to poke above the soil. They are about 1/4" tall and so far seem to be single shoots with no evidence yet of leaf development.

Professor Sprout suggested that the Hesseth originated in the Middle East. Other references, (curiously, almost all were found in poetry)...

_"...and which were a hell of a lot more difficult to find, I might point out," growled MacDougal to himself as he wrote the report..._

...bore this out, so I kept the pots in the southern side of the greenhouse. Then last week I moved the pot with the slightly acid loam (Soil Type #5 from my previous report) to the one window in the Slytherin Common Room. There's not a lot of light, but the location is fairly protected, being so near the ceiling. The plant seems to be tolerably happy there: at least it isn't weakening or showing signs of stress.

* * *

Dumbledore put down the report and thought momentarily. Then he addressed one of the pictures on the wall of his office.

"Phineas, is there a window in the Slytherin Common Room?"

"Of course there is, as you know quite well. It's in an alcove in the corner opposite the door, up near the ceiling because the Common Room is, after all, a dungeon."

"Do students notice it much?"

"In my time, the alcove was frequented by couples of older students when academic studies were of... secondary interest."

"Ah," smiled Dumbledore, "I'm glad to report that is still the use. I wonder if MacDougal will notice that association."

* * *

Report on the Hesseth Plant

After an initial growth spurt which left the sprouts about 3/4" tall, I have detected no further growth. The plants seem healthy in that their colour is consistent (and, I presume, good) and there is no weakening of their structure; but there is no more growth. I have moved the plants about in the greenhouse to get differing amounts of sun and moisture. I even set one outside for 24 hours, although the weather is getting chilly with the advance of Autumn. None of these variations had any observable effect on the growth.

Presuming the plant did originate in the Middle East, the name is probably derived from the Aramaic or Hebrew verb "chasad" which means "be good" or "be kind." The noun form "chesed" means "goodness" or "kindness." In some Aramaic and Hebrew literature this word was elevated to the concept of deep friendship, even love. It is very likely the plant was given this name because of its cardioid leaves which grow in opposing pairs along the stem of the plant.

Based on this assumption, I looked up as many ancient love potions as I could find. Of course, we know now that most love potions are worthless, but I thought if I could discover what ingredients were mixed with the Hesseth I might get a clue as to the properties of the plant itself.

* * *

Brian was getting frustrated, and he hated that. For the past month, every approach, every line of inquiry came up with a dead end, and the plants themselves provided bewilderingly inconsistent results. None of the plants had actually flowered yet but a couple had produced leaves... and Brian was unable to put his finger on what actually promoted their growth. His next report was due in two days, and he had absolutely nothing new to report. Turning in two reports in a row that only listed research approaches that had failed deeply annoyed him.

He sat glowering in the Common Room which, of course, was decorated primarily in greens and silver. Everywhere he looked the room seemed to incriminate him, from the underwater seascapes hanging on the walls, to the light green drapings about the mantle and doorways, to the dark and mossy green of the carpet. The entire room seemed to sneer at him: Can't you even figure out a simple thing like growing a plant? And you call yourself a Slytherin? Brian wanted to scream in frustration. He looked around the Common Room for a target and noticed one of the first years.

"Here, you: Peven; come over here." There were some benefits for being an upper classman, especially in your own Common Room, and especially over first-years. "I've noticed recently that you've been hanging around that Ravenclaw first-year. Tell me about him."

The smallest bit of surprise followed by cunning shown in Peven's eyes (after all, he was a Slytherin), but he went over to MacDougal's chair. "You mean Gulder? What do you want to know? I thought you knew a fair amount about him already."

"Don't give me any of your lip," snarled Brian, "or I'll hex it tight to the end of your nose. Sit down!" As the first-year sat down, sufficiently cowed for Brian's satisfaction, Brian thought quickly. _How do I get information about Gulder without seeming to be desperate for it?_ Brian forced himself to relax.

"This is a special Slytherin exercise, Peven. Since this is your first try, we'll make it something insignificant – insignificant but verifiable, just to see how well you've done. Information, Peven, is always valuable. At some time it may become important to the House for you to find specific information. Therefore, we'll set up a little practice for you. Get all the information you can about Gulder. Find out however much of his past he can remember; find out what studies he's good at – charms, herbology, whatever – and what studies he isn't. Find out who his friends are, and especially what patterns there are among them. Patterns are very important when you're gathering information. Understood?"

"Y-yes." The first-year wiggled slightly in his chair. "Will that be all?"

"Yes, that's all. See me in two weeks with your results. Oh, and Peven – I have other sources of information. Don't muff this up just because it's an exercise." MacDougal put as much threat in his voice and in his smile as he could. Peven blanched, and then shuffled off to his homework on the other side of the Common Room.

_Good,_ thought Brian, some of his frustration assuaged, _It's always good to see fear in the other person's eyes._

* * *

NOTES:

1. white, or milky substance. "The milk of human kindness", Shakespeare

2. Chesed. Used in the Bible meaning steadfast love, as in the phrase "His love (chesed) endures forever."


	3. Interruption

Standard Disclaimer: Everything and all Characters recognizable from the Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling. Unfamiliar characters and this series of events are my own. I receive no remuneration whatever for this story except the compliments, if any, from the readers.

* * *

**Interruption**

He almost, but not quite, woke up in the middle of the night. His awareness drifted in that middle place, not rising up to full consciousness nor settling back into true sleep. Around him, light and dark were… interacting; not at all blending, but mixing about in ways that Brian had never thought possible for light and dark. They rather seemed to be solid, or liquid, or… Anyway, the… interacting… was like mingling oil and paraffin or different colours of sand.

A large, roughly mountainous shape slowly rose, covered with patches of light and dark which seemed to give it a pleasing shape and definition. Then the mountain shook, or shivered, rather like a large animal shaking off small pests. The areas of darkness were flung away or slithered down the sides of the massif, revealing the mountain in an awful splendor of light. There was no need for darkness: different colours and textures of light – greens, oranges, blues, greys, browns (?) – all gave complete and deeply satisfying definition to the huge shape.

Other shapes were forming and un-forming, Some solidified into light, others crystallized into darkness although the result was somehow smaller than when it started out. Brian's awareness drifted until he realized he was listening to two voices. The first Voice was mountainous: deep, massive, incomprehensively weighty, as bright as a silver knife, as mellow as a cup of hot chocolate. _If this Voice ever roared_, thought one corner of Brian's mind, _the entire planet would shiver into dust_. Suddenly Brian's attention was riveted: the Voice seemed annoyed.

"**I take issue with this person**," said the Voice levelly, but at a level that would drive Dementors screaming to hide in roots of the mountains. "**If he wants to find information about someone, he can do it without intimidating and abusing Garnic Peven.**"

_It/He knows!_ Dread seeped from Brian's mind, flowed over his shoulders and then down to his stomach where it froze. Hysteria could not warm it, reason could not budge it. It/He knew what Brian had done and It/He was demanding that Brian be brought to account for it. How could anyone answer that Voice? There was no question about the act being right or innocent or wrong or justifiable: it was brutally obvious what Brian had done and what his motivation had been. There could be no protesting, no arguing, no answering; nothing would stand against that Voice and its accusation. Even as terror enveloped him Brian could not deny the justice of the consequences.

The light and dark built images that were unrecognizable to Brian, but at the same time he intuitively understood they displayed some of the consequences waiting to be unleashed by a decision. Horror upon incomprehensible horror came at him with the implacable force of a flash flood. Phobos himself grasped Brian's head and laughed insanely into his eyes. The only tattered fragment of hope Brian could find was that the second Voice might possibly soften the consequences.

"**AGREED**," said the second Voice, and all hope died in Brian MacDougal. The second Voice seemed to speak from beyond time and space. If the first Voice was deep, the second Voice was beyond measuring; it could be heard by molecules and by galaxies. The crushing weightiness of the first Voice was like a dandelion clock when compared with that of the second Voice. An entire planet concentrating the whole of its weight on your person would seem a trifle compared with the ageless, beyond-sight, incomprehensively massive pressure of the second Voice. Sharp enough to divide atoms, as close as breathing yet at the same time distant beyond imagining, even Phobos fled shrieking from its sound. Yet it seemed also to have an aspect soft and comforting, like a downy blanket with no surfaces to touch your skin, like a warm bath without the medium of water. _If this Voice were to laugh_, reflected Brian in his despair, _I would join Its laughter, even though that would destroy me_.

Then Brian was enclosed, ever so gently, and the vision dimmed into soft familiar darkness. He was back in his bed (…had he ever left it?), awake, and literally petrified with fear. He couldn't move his arms, his legs, his head, even his eyes. He wanted to scream, but he could barely breathe. Wide awake, his mind still reeled under the deluge of terror coming from he knew not where. He was without hope and he expected no reply but still his mind whispered, _Help? Please, help?_ Eventually his mind must have numbed under the onslaught and he drifted again into true sleep.

* * *

The next morning Brian sought out Garnic before breakfast, in the Common Room. Peven came in from the dormitories with a group of first-years.

"I say, Peven," called MacDougal, "Come here a moment, would you?"

Garnic glanced at the other first years, then said, "I'll… I'll join you at the table." He crossed the verdant carpet to MacDougal who was near the window alcove. Beyond being haggard from lack of sleep, MacDougal's face was an interesting display of conflicting emotions which Garnic dared not attempt to read.

"About that little assignment I gave you last night," said Brian, with as soft a grin as he could manage. His face seemed unsure how to actualize the direction it received from his brain. "Well, you can drop it. Just forget I ever mentioned it. And…" – the conflict became more noticeable and Garnic held his breath – "and… I'm sorry I… put you down…" Brian was surprised. He expected a great amount of pressure and strain from this interview; the exact opposite occurred. Breathing was easier, thinking was easier: it was quite amazing. And this first year, Peven, wasn't such a child as he'd first thought. He seemed to have some good stuff in him. Brian's facial muscles, still a bit startled, relaxed into a more natural smile. Garnic blinked, smiled nervously back, then scurried out the door to breakfast.

"What was that all about?" said Bronach.

Brian looked towards his friend. He was still treading on unfamiliar ground, so he tried to brush it off. "Just something between him and me," he said lightly, and then continued with more steel behind his grin. "I will make him forget it, Conall, if I have to."

"Oooo, I feel threatened!" Bronach melodramatically cowered, then laughed. "Come on, let's get to breakfast."

"Be there in a moment," said Brian. When the other Slytherins had left, Brian went over to the alcove where he'd left his books. His glance drifted slightly upward to the Hesseth plant he'd put in the window. It now had three pair of leaves and two buds.

* * *

Report on the Hesseth Plant.

I've just recently observed startlingly rapid growth on the plant in the Slytherin Common Room. This plant has done well since I put it there, and up until last night had produced two sets of leaves. This morning it had three pair of eaves and two buds, which none of the other plants have yet produced. Each bud arises from the base of a leaf stem where it joins the main vine, and the buds also seem to come in pairs. I have an idea about growth development that I would like to explore, but I have not had time to design and execute the experiment before this report was due. I have great expectations for my next report.

Meanwhile, the other plants continue as before…


	4. Breakthrough

Standard Disclaimer: Everything and all Characters recognizable from the Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling. Unfamiliar characters and this series of events are my own. I receive no remuneration whatever from this story except the compliments, if any, of the readers.

* * *

**Breakthrough**

It was early December, but the greenhouse still managed to retain that warm and humid atmosphere which is at once oppressive and yet curiously refreshing. And, of course, greenery was everywhere. Two potted plants hung from the ceiling on either side of the door. The floor along the wall was lined with potted ferns and small shrubs. In a corner opposite the door a large pot contained a tall, multi-stemmed woody bush the reached the ceiling. With just a little imagination the bush almost looked like a wizened old man. The place even smelled green: the scent of growing plants mixed with the odour of various fertilizers and nutrients and the aroma of good, solid earth.

Brian sat at the bench in one of the small classrooms just off the main greenhouse, two of the Hesseth plants before him. The late autumn sun had nearly set, but the room was lit by a pinkish sunshine, a spell at which Professor Sprout was particularly adept. It made everything that was green appear even more green. MacDougal listened nervously as Gulder came in the main doors.

"Professor McGonagall sent me here."

"Yes," answered Professor Sprout, "one of the upper classmen asked if you could help him with a project he's doing. Shouldn't take more than an hour. Do you have the time now?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Gulder.

_I wonder what he'll think when he finds out it's me_, pondered Brian. As their voices approached the room, Professor Sprout said, "Now you're not avoiding a detention with this, are you?"

"No, ma'am." They both chuckled. Then Professor Sprout opened the door and let Gulder in. "I'll be in the main room just in case something gets away from the two of you," she said, and then left.

Gulder stopped just inside the doorway when he saw Brian. _I can't blame him, really_, thought the Slytherin fourth year.

"Come in… please," Brian just missed stammering the word, "Have a seat." He tried very hard to have a pleasant expression on his face, and was surprised to discover how awkward it felt. He watched the younger boy quietly cross the room and sit at the table across from him. "Um… do you know what kind of plants these are?" he began.

He tried to rattle on about the plant and his assignment, but his memory started replaying his dream. **_I take issue with this person! I take __issue__ with this person!_** Brian tried to look casual as he gripped the side of the table. His knuckles betrayed him. His forehead felt damp… but surely that was just the humidity in the room. The sensible reality that there was no reason to be afraid was swept away by the memory of that first Voice: so overwhelming in strength, so piercing in observation, so… true in evaluation. _**I take issue with this person!** _Light and dark, building and shaking off… Then a tiny thought drifted across his mind, as if a tiny bright thread from a light bulb were to drift across the inside of his arm. But the searing pain of the touch was nothing compared with the deep horror of the content: the second Voice had _agreed__!_

"MacDougal? Are you alright?"

Gulder's small voice in the greenhouse seemed like a rope thrown out to him, with which he could pull himself back to the more familiar realm of human existence. Brian focused his eyes on the face across the table from him. Not quite glowing in the pinkish light, the face looked concerned, but still very guarded.

Mentally moving forward as if on the thinnest of ice, Brian said, "No, I'm not alright." He took a breath, then looked straight in the eyes of the younger student and said very earnestly, "Chrysophylax Gulder, Ravenclaw first year at Hogwarts; I, Brian MacDougal, Slytherin fourth year at Hogwarts, have despised you and publicly ridiculed you for no reason. I have tried to hurt you deeply for no reason. You have done nothing whatever to injure or insult me. I was wrong, I apologize, and I am sorry."

Brian watched doubt and incredulity shape Gulder's face. Gulder also seemed confused as to what to say. Water dripped occasionally in the room, echoing if it happened to land in a puddle. Finally, he gathered himself and looked at Brian.

"I don't know what to say. I can't just say, 'Oh, it's alright' because it wasn't alright: it was horrible. Especially what you said about my Mum and Dad…" Gulder looked away. "That hurt very deeply. But then," he said, almost to himself, "I've been healed very deeply, and I am under obligation…" He looked Brian in the eye. "I don't know much about wizarding ways, so please forgive me if I do this wrong. The only way I know how to respond to this is a Muggle way: Brian MacDougal, I forgive you."

Pride and offense leapt up in Brian's mind: _he_ forgives _me_?! The two attitudes struggled momentarily for dominance, only to be impaled by truth. As they fell back into darkness, Brian noticed that a lot of emotional weight went with them. "Thanks," he said, awkwardly, "and I… I do mean that. Ummm, can we still work on my project? Have you got a bit of time yet?"

"Yes. It's about these plants, isn't it?"

"Right, and I'm sorry if I'm repeating myself, but I was distracted before." _That's putting it mildly_, Brian thought to himself. "These are Hesseth plants. Have you ever come across a Hesseth plant before, does it look at all familiar?"

"I've heard the word, or something very like it, but I never knew it was the name of a plant. As for the plant itself… no, I can't say that I've ever seen one before."

"Alright, I've set up an experiment which may sound a bit loony to you, but it's my project and I know how I want it run. I want you to do a spell for me right here, and this is the point: this spell needs to be something you want very much to do, something that you feel is right, something that you or somebody will enjoy. Can you think of anything like that?"

"Well," said Chrys, "I was thinking of making something for my fosters for Christmas. Would that do?"

"Excellent! Do you have what you need here?"

"Right!" Chrys dug in his book bag and came up with a long, narrow box. He opened it and it contained two white quills. "I was going to transfigure the points into metal nibs so they'd last longer."

_What an interesting idea_, thought Brian. _Wonder why nobody's thought of it before?_ "That should do just fine," he said aloud. "Now, you have the whole table at your disposal. And don't think about me: I'll be watching the plants, not you." He got out a piece of parchment and his own ink and quill.

Chrys got to work. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the image of his intended result. He clearly and minutely imagined the metal nib, then he picked up one of the quills and studied it, deciding where the metal should join and blend in. Then he waved his wand in the prescribed pattern and spoke the spell. The white feather now ended in a sturdy, but silvery nib. "There!" said Chrys. "That's better than I'd hoped it would be."

Brian watched the two plants. Was it just his imagination, or were the buds fatter? He measured the plants and noted that both were ½ inch longer than previously measured. He turned to Chrys. "Well done. Now for the next one, can I have you actually touch one of the plants while you do the spell?"

Chrys looked at the feather, the plant, and his wand. "Well, I'll try… but it looks a bit awkward, you know."

"Here, I think we can work this out." He got a book from his book bag and put it on the table next to one of the plants. Then he put one of his fists on the book and the other fist on top of the first. "Now, just rest your hand that's holding the feather on my fist. I'll move it until the Hesseth is just below it and keep it at the right height to touch the plant. You take care of your spell, and I'll manage the plant, alright?"

"Sounds brilliant!" said Chrys enthusiastically. He picked up the remaining feather in his left hand, pulled up his sleeve, and then lay his wrist on Brian's fist. Soon he felt the top leaves of the Hesseth brushing the bottom of his forearm. Smiling, he concentrated on his spell. A warm feeling of affection flowed over him: this one was for Aunt Al. He did the spell trying to weave the affection he felt into the metal nib. When he finished, and pulled the nib up to inspect it, he almost gasped at the beauty of it. It was the same silvery metal as the first, blending into the shaft of the quill the same way, yet this nib was more graceful, and it was decorated as if a lace pattern had been punched in miniscule holes along the edges of the metal. "This is beautiful," he said softly. "It's just right for Aunt Al."

MacDougal didn't hear him. Brian was stunned with amazement and success. "Gulder," he said quietly, "Have a look at the plant." He watched Gulder's face as the joy over the pen nib changed to surprise and delight. The plant had grown three inches, and it had four blossoms, all fully open. Their fragrance slowly filled the room. It wasn't the overwhelming sweetness of a gardenia or a hyacinth, nor the sharp richness of a mint or a thyme, nor even the pervasive delicacy of a carnation. Rather, the fragrance of the Hesseth was more of a catalyst: it enhanced the aromas surrounding it, yet somehow you knew it was the doing of the Hesseth bloom.

"How did that happen?" Gulder's eyes danced and his voice rang with excitement.

"I think it was you, somehow," answered Brian. _Actually, I'm certain. Not that I'm particularly happy about it…but I can't lose focus now._ "Now I want to try a different approach. I want you do to a spell that's… well, that's bad… or that makes you feel unhappy. I'm not asking you to do anything evil, just… well, just do something that's as close to bad as you can and still feel comfortable." Seeing Gulder's questioning frown and withdrawn expression, Brian tried to explain more. "You see, I want to see how the Hesseth responds to it. When you did something good, the plant grew enormously. I want to see what the plant would do with a spell from the other end of the spectrum."

"I think I grasp what you're after," said Chrys slowly, "I just need to think carefully. You're asking me to walk an awfully narrow path here."

"I know," said Brian uncomfortably. "I wanted to do the experiment having different spells from the same wizard, don't you see?" Drip, drip; and the scent of Hesseth. A moment or two passed, and then Brian said, "But here, just forget it. I don't want to cause you any more… trouble… or pain. I can find someone else to run the experiment."

"No, hold on a bit," said Chrys. "I really appreciate your understanding, MacDougal, but I think I can make this work for us both. It's really nothing; most wizards wouldn't think twice about it; but it happens to bother me, so it's a spell that I don't like doing. Will that meet the need?"

"It sounds like it. But you're sure you don't mind?"

"No, particularly because I'm going to reverse it just as soon as I can. I'll be back in a moment." Chrys got up and left the side-chamber. Brian began rapidly scribbling notes and measuring (and admiring) the plants. Part of his mind started asking questions. _Why do I care if the kid's bothered or not?_

When Chrys returned two minutes later, he put an earthworm on the table. "I'll transfigure this into something, like a ring, maybe. And then I'll transfigure it right back. I know you probably think me silly, but I don't like taking a living thing and making it—un-alive, or whatever state it gets to be. No one has yet been able to demonstrate to me that the animal loses consciousness when this happens, and that bothers me. I can't imagine that it's pleasant to be a worm all of your life, and then suddenly become a hard, cold, stiff thing like a ring. Anyway, it bothers me, so that's what I have in mind. D'you still think it will do what you want done?"

"Yes," said Brian, "and I think you're quite sensible about it, Gulder. I've never thought about transfiguration like that, but there seem to be a rather lot of things I haven't thought about before. I'm ready when you are."

"Righto," said Chrys. He touched a Hesseth leaf and started to concentrate on the worm and on a ring. Then he made the spell with word and wand. The worm curled up into a ring and became metal. The ring was a little wavy, and a bit on the thick side for a normal ring, but it was definitely metal.

Brian scratched furiously on his parchment. He heard Chrys' voice almost from a distance: "May I change it back now, please?" Brian glanced up and saw Chrys staring with horrified fascination at the ring. "Yes, go ahead," Brian said. He turned back to his notes barely noticing that Chrys brushed his hair back with his free hand.

Brian snapped to attention when he heard Chrys gasp. He looked up to see Chrys staring in horror at something on the table. It moved, almost flipped over, and moved again. It was the ring, partially metal and partially flesh. Chrys moaned, "Oh, no, no! Please, Dad, help me!"

"What happened?" Brian said quickly. "What went wrong?"

"I don't know!" said Chrys, almost in tears.

Brian's gaze swept over the table, and then he knew what had happened. When he brushed his hair back, Chrys had let go of the Hesseth. "Here!" said Brian, "Pull yourself together!" _Now, just why am I so concerned about this?_ Brian recklessly pushed the tender plant into Chrys' hand. "Hold this, and do your spell again!" Brian spoke slowly to calm the first year student. "Nice and slowly, clear out your mind, think it through, and then do the spell. You can do it, you've done it before. Ready? Now, go!"

Chrys formed his thoughts, grasped the plant, and worked the spell. The metal relaxed into wormhood, and Chrys breathed evenly again. "Thanks, thanks awfully. I know it seems silly, but I just don't like killing things if I can avoid it. Oh, your plant! I hope I didn't harm it!"

Brian held up the plant which now had six blossoms, two more buds (with their leaves), and four more inches of growth.. "Harm it? I think it likes you!," Brian forced a laugh. "Almost every time you touch it it grows an inch or so. This is splendid!" _What was I thinking? What was I feeling? Why did I care about the stupid worm?_

A knock at the door announced Professor Sprout. "Are you two finished yet? It's nearly dinner time."

"Look, Professor," exulted Brian, "Look how much it's grown in the last hour!"

"Remarkable!" she said, coming over to the table and completely forgetting about dinner. "I can't say that I've ever seen such quick development. However did you do it?" She arched an eyebrow and regarded MacDougal suspiciously. "This isn't just some engorgement charm, is it?"

"No, Professor, it isn't, really! I tried…" Brian blushed and continued with embarrassment. "I tried that weeks ago and it didn't work."

Professor Sprout burst out in laughter. "I don't very often trip up a Slytherin, but it's wonderful when it happens!" she whooped. "This is a red letter day for me!"

* * *

NOTES:

1. and I am under obligation. "...and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors..."


	5. One More Question

Standard Disclaimer: Everything and all Characters recognizable from the Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling. Unfamiliar characters and this series of events are my own. I get no remuneration whatever from this story except the compliments, if any, from the readers.

* * *

**One More Question**

Professor Dumbledore had long ago mastered the art of skimming a report while simultaneously observing the author in the reflection in his glasses. Other reflective surfaces scattered randomly about his office helped, too. MacDougal didn't appear to be overly nervous; nowhere near as nervous as he was at the first interview. Yet he wasn't smug, which bolstered Dumbledore's opinion of the boy significantly.

"You've made excellent progress on this assignment," he commented.

"Thank you, sir," replied Brian. He was actually sitting in the chair rather than just perched upon it, but he was still a bit nervous. Click, tickity t-click-ick, cl-tick-ick, tick. In the back of his mind he listened to the various instruments in Dumbledore's office. _This would drive me mad_, he thought. _It's worse than Chinese water torture._

"I've read your reports carefully and I have a good idea of what you know about the Hesseth plant." Dumbledore put the latest report into a folder with the others, then sat forward, intertwined his fingers and looked directly at MacDougal. "Now, can you summarize for me what you have learned from this assignment, other than the particulars about the plant?"

Brian wasn't caught off-guard completely, but he still thought for a moment. "I've learned different approaches to research, particularly in the realm of literature. Also, along the way I was confronted with some questions I'd never thought of before."

Since MacDougal seemed reluctant to explain further, Dumbledore proceeded on what he thought was a different tangent. "What surprised you during this assignment?"

_Blimey! Does he always know what I don't want to talk about?_ "Well, I was certainly surprised by the growth spurts. Three inches in two minutes is remarkable for any plant." Brian balanced for a moment trying to decide which direction to go, but finally he conceded the ground. "And you were right, Professor. I did find information in at least one place I didn't want to look. I got a lot of data by working with Mr. Gulder, the Ravenclaw first year. He was the one who first demonstrated the effect of the wizard's intent when using the Hesseth in conjunction with magic. I guess... I guess he's not such a bad chap after all."

_Very good_, thought Dumbledore. Unnoticed by the two students, he'd been in the greenhouse with them, just in case things started going downhill, as it were. "And were you able to reproduce this effect yourself?"

"Well, yes, but I'd like to experiment some more with different methods of combination, such as fresh leaves, dried leaves, perhaps eating a bit of a leaf, or even making a tea of them. There also seems to be some effect created by the fragrance of the blossoms which bears more investigation. Then I'd like to see what can be done by cross-pollination and I hope to bring at least one plant to seed."

"That would be very commendable, MacDougal. Yes, I'm quite satisfied with your results and I consider the assignment completed most satisfactorily. You may continue experimenting as long as you wish, and I'd very much like to stay informed of your results. When you decide to finish, please give the remaining plants to Professor Sprout. I've been giving her copies of your reports and she agrees with me that this will be an outstanding addition to our Herbology program. I hereby award 50 points to Slytherin."

Brian's face lit up like a sunrise. "Thank you, sir!"

"Thank _you_, MacDougal," rejoined Dumbledore. "Those points were well earned. Well, that will be all for now. Good day to you."

As Dumbledore watched, Brian nearly bounced out of the room he was so excited.

"That was deftly handled," commented one of the portraits.

"Thank you," said Dumbledore.

"Yes, but how long will it last?" inquired another portrait.

"Ever the optimist, aren't you, Phineas?" smiled Dumbledore. "That's the question asked by every teacher of any subject. Of course, the only answer is – wait and see."


End file.
